Chloroform at 3 AM
by Trilies
Summary: KHR Rarepair Week 2019, Storm Day: With their lips maybe a centimeter apart, M.M. makes a couple kissing noises. "Your wallet is the only good thing about you, Mukuro-chan."


"You know, Mukuro-chan, entering without knocking is why you couldn't get a girlfriend," M.M. muses aloud, not even bothering to make eye contact with the illusionist whether by turning around or looking at him through the mirror. Instead, she stays right where she is, lips puckered as she patiently wipes away every trace of lipstick. She doesn't really care for a "nude and natural" look. It's just a lie men feed themselves to think they're better. When she wears lipstick, she wants people to damn well know she is.

Coincidentally, the man sprawled out on the floor unconscious is one of those types, and M.M. catches the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye where Mukuro idly nudges the pig with his trident. He might be disgusted with the man or he might not be. With the types like Mukuro, everything is hidden behind an insufferably smug smirk a solid 75% of the time. "Oh, but not a boyfriend?" he says with a lazy drawl.

M.M. pops her lips, both in disdain and to make sure everything is clear of her skin. "We both know the only reason you have _two_ is because they never had a chance to learn better," she says bluntly, turning her head to the side to cast a critical gaze upon her skin. There's no reason to wipe away any of the foundation. A little blush here, some eyeliner there, and she thinks this can be a salvageable look. "Isn't it lucky that you have a more worldly woman like me to know what you're really worth?" Digging through her purse, she pulls out a tube of brilliant red lipstick that's a lot more eyecatching.

From behind her, she can hear the click of Mukuro's obnoxious heels as he approaches her long before his arms slide against hers. For any other person, maybe this would be considered a pinning maneuver with the way his chest can just barely be felt at her back and his gloved hands press down against the counter. M.M. doesn't bother to be worried. Even with his eye able to enhance his own combat ability, she's more than confident she could twist his arm right off her if she was worried. Instead, as he leans his head over his shoulder, she uncaps her lipstick and offers it up him. "So what _am_ I worth?" he asks, amusement coating his voice, before he obligingly purses his lips together.

She could rush it, because they're in the private suite of one of the richest corrupt businessmen in the world (which are most of them honestly), and any fucking around could have both of them jumping out of an extremely tall building... But she doesn't. Instead, M.M. patiently traces red all along Mukuro's mouth until it's a nice brilliant crimson. Only then does she say, "For tonight, $6,500 dollars, although I can convert that for you if you only have euros or yen on hand."

Laughing at her, Mukuro pulls away and leaves his trident where he'd rested it against a wardrobe. "So demanding," he says.

"Say the man who needs most of his pawns brainwashed into self harm," M.M. murmurs around her lipstick, somehow managing to speak without smudging even a little bit of red out of line. Frankly, she's quite proud of the fact that she's managed to get this far in their relationship without having that trident ever even touch her skin... or be tossed aside back into the slammer for being too useless. One would be annoying, but the other would be downright infuriating.

She's not about a life back in prison, which Birds and his two pathetic dogs have to deal with for as long as their no-doubtedly short lives will go on. M.M. wants the finer things in life: the good food, the extravagant hotels, the beautiful clothes, and everything else the world has to offer her. Life is short, and M.M. has never found herself to be a particularly religious type. If there's no guarantee on her life, whether from a random sudden heart attack or surge of cancer or a plane's engines failing... Why not?

Maybe if she'd ever forged one of Mukuro's little contracts with him, not much of her life would change... _Maybe_. But M.M. knows better than to hand that amount of power over to another person like that. After all, if she wouldn't date a man who'd insist on if she worked or not, or on what kind of clothes she could wear, or who she could speak with... Why would she let a man take utter control of her body? Better to keep things simple and upfront with cash.

Besides, while she's pretty sure they were like that long before any blood contracts were made, she can't imagine living in such slavish (and dirt poor) devotion as Chikusa and Ken. Ew.

By the time she's done applying her lashes and eyeshadow, Mukuro has freely rifled through most of what few business papers are in the bedroom proper. M.M. can see just the slightest pinprick down on their target's legs, right on the back of his calf where it's unlikely to go noticed. No one seems to know how Mukuro can worm his way into powerful organizations and businesses, learning things that should be the most closely guarded secrets- not yet at least. M.M. is fairly certain that it's only herself and a small amount of the Vongola for fairly obvious reasons. Well, and Mukuro's own group, of course. That should go without saying. Stepping over the body, M.M. leans against Mukuro's back with her elbow digging into his kidney. On purpose. Of course. "Find anything fun and interesting?" she asks, blowing into his ear so that his earring sways.

"A few things, but nothing too indepth." He waves his hand dismissively through the air. "I'm sure I'll have access to more of what's really useful later." Tucking the folder back onto the desk, almost guaranteed to be exactly how he left it, he glances back down at her body and lets out a snicker. "Are you really going to go for a night on the town in _that_?"

Asshole. The innocent floral dress and cardigan look really isn't her style, she knows that. M.M. puts her foot down as she turns around, hoping to nail him on his toes only to miss. If only it was that easy to be appropriately petty against him. When she really wants to strike, she has to be creative about it. "Of course not," she sniffs, pausing by his coat rack to dig around until she finds the guy's wallet. This will do as a decent enough tip. "I packed an extra set of clothes. Who the hell do you think I am?"

"A golddigger?" he offers, smug and sly all at once while he stretches his arms up over his head.

M.M. flips him off before leaning down over the unconscious body at her feet. He'll be suspicious if he wakes up like this, more than he will be already at having what looked to be some random girl steal his wallet. The least she can do is dump him on his bed. It will help the impression that she was _only_that, instead of the way in for someone much worse. He's a bigger guy than her, as most guys tend to be, but M.M. doesn't let that stop her. She's spent years building up her body, all the better to crack her clarinet into a person's skull with maximum force. A mere businesman isn't enough to even make her bust out a sweat as she hauls him up and tosses him carelessly onto the bed where he'd hope to get laid instead of laid out.

His eyelids don't even flutter. Those were some really impressive drugs she managed to slip him. Well, for the amount she paid for them, they better be.

("The amount" being literally any amount. M.M. has found that she can put her money to much more self indulgent uses, and it's more pleasurable to do so.)

"So you're taking me out to dinner, aren't you?" she asks plainly shrugging off her cardigan as she goes over to the slightly ratty backpack she'd walked in with that contains clothing worth more than some people's lives. She doesn't even blink as she reaches down to slide her dress up over her hips and then her head. There's nothing of her body that Mukuro hasn't seen before. If anything, they're both _quite_ familiar with one another on that sense.

As a matter of fact, Mukuro seems more concerned with what she's said than that she's readjusting the hidden straps of her bra so that there's a slight criss-cross of them across her collarbone. "I don't believe _that_ was part of our deal," he drawls before something seems to hit him. "Also it's three in the morning."

"Then it's breakfast," M.M. says offhandedly, sliding on a skirt that's just short enough to get her banned from most schools and a leather jacket which says she wouldn't care either way. Combined with a good pair of boots, and she's all set. There's nothing holding her back from walking over to Mukuro, a sway in her hips, and she smirks up at him with her arms wrapping around his hips. "As if you really have anything _else_ to do in this city, Mukuro-chan." He smirks right back at her, the two of them leaning close enough for their faces to brush.

He blinks. "...Is that your hand in my pocket trying to steal my wallet, or are you happy to see me?"

With their lips maybe a centimeter apart, M.M. makes a couple kissing noises. "Your wallet is the only good thing about you, Mukuro-chan." But then again, her ability to lie, murder, and steal are probably the only good things about her.

No one else really can deserve either of them.

* * *

**Author's Note**: this was for KHR Rarepair Week 2019. For the first day, Storm, I chose the prompt "chloroform at 3 a.m." with the ship of M.M./Mukuro. This has a fun edited graphic attached to it, but you'll only be able to see that on AO3 or my tumblr since ffnet doesn't support pictures last I checked.

"james what exactly is this job the two of them are working on" listen i don't know, i was doing the writing equivalent of full out sprinting while a scream tore through my throat

i only finished all the hastily made and amateur images for this week on 6/15, and then two finished fics on 6/16. i haven't even really edited this properly?

why didn't I do the shapeshifter au? goddammit.

ftr when M.M. makes the self harm jab, she's talking about how anyone mukuro makes a contract with *literally* has to be jabbed with that dumb trident and she's not about that life

one of these days I'll give this ship the proper fic it deserves, because I love that M.M. outright states in the kokuyo arc that she's only here for his wallet, and tyl M.M. tells Chrome that he's absolute garbage so please get some better taste, child. like m.m. then why are you here?

clearly she's the only one that deserves mukuro. take that as you fucking will.


End file.
